PART I
One cold and bleak a day-
Yes, it was my saddest morning-
That happens to be a Sunday,
I walked out, lonely, yawning
And sorrowing, all the way.
My life was that of ants:
Scavenging where there’s a remains.
My being was that of plants:
Swaying to wind, whining in pains,
Naked to rain and all, nature enchants.
Like a feather jeered by wind
I wandered carelessly with two faces:
Life at left, my right death grinned.
The semblance was of no races,
Not even a gorilla when skinned.
In low esteem I was breezed
Past neighborhood, past foreign territory.
As hot displeasure carefully seized,
Hunger depleted from its depository
The little energy; my steps decreased.
And from the speakers of a church
A sonorous voice strongly called me near.
His words my heart permitted a search
And I drew closer with full ear to hear;
Not long I took wobbly steps to perch.
Life’s all misery and pain
When all the good in dead yesterday
Are only blurred by night’s stain,
But by breathing woke in today,
Forgetting each dawn is a hope not vain.
At the last row, on a pew,
Tears washed away my miserable years.
Encouraged, the dead strength grew
Out of (the then) somber seed of despairs.
And hence, the best of me astir anew.
« return.